


There's No Space in My Heart

by nagi_schwarz, SherlockianSyndromes



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 11:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14104080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockianSyndromes/pseuds/SherlockianSyndromes
Summary: Five times John Sheppard couldn't tell Rodney how he felt and one time he could.Set in Season 1.





	There's No Space in My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the incredible [Brumeier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier) for her beta work and support on this, our very first collaborative fic.

**_1\. So deep that I can’t get out_ **

John felt it, that moment when Rodney slapped the Ancient shield device on his chest and went charging into the darkness. It was the same feeling he’d felt one day when Captain Lyle Holland smiled at him across the little table they always shared in the mess tent.

_I’m in love with you._

Only that feeling was compounded with the same thing John had felt when he’d been in his CO’s tent and heard the chatter over the radio. Chopper down. Holland with it. No word on whether he’d survived. He was behind enemy lines in the middle of a political firestorm. They weren’t sending anyone to rescue him.

So John had gone after him because he couldn’t leave him, and it had all gone to hell, but he’d been there. At the end. With Holland. Still unable to say what he really felt even while Holland was breathing his last.

So John stood beside Rodney in the infirmary, itching and twitching and waiting for Ford and Teyla and Weir and Beckett to clear out so he could say - so he could tell Rodney -

No. He couldn’t. Couldn’t do this again.

“Get well soon,” John said, clapped Rodney briefly on the shoulder, and bolted from the infirmary, leaving Ford and Teyla and Weir and Beckett behind to keep Rodney company instead.

 

**_2\. Then what is this feeling that keeps bringing me back to you_ **

The first time Rodney kissed him, John passed out.

He had begged Beckett to beg Weir to free him from the infirmary, where all he did was lay in bed feeling useless. Sure, he was still a little weak, what with that Iratus bug sucking his life away and defibrillating his heart to death and back again. But he'd rather be resting in his own room anyway -

And then he collided with Rodney.

John hadn’t seen Rodney since the whole team had visited a few days ago. He was completely fine with that too, since he was forcibly trying to put some distance between the two of them. John knew how the past loved to repeat itself.

Of course, he had agreed to let Rodney be on his gate team, which didn’t help. _First dibs on all the new tech,_ including _naming it. Plus, I’m the smartest person here. You need me on your team._ Rodney had cornered him that day, and all of his reasoning had been sound (except the naming the tech part, that came _later_ ), but that didn’t mean John liked it.

All it meant was that each time he laid eyes on Rodney, like he was doing now, his chest felt a little bit tighter, his heart stuttered for a few more beats, and it was getting harder to run away from what he was feeling.

“Major? What are you doing out of the infirmary? I’m amazed Beckett didn’t try to strap you to your bed.”

“What?” John shook his head, clearing his mind of all…that. And then he noticed Rodney was still staring at him.

“I, uh, I got Beckett to ask Weir to let me out. I’d rather just rest in my own quarters and I feel useless right now anyway.”

Rodney’s brow furrowed. “Well, your body has been through a lot -”

“Vampire bug and heart stoppage. I know.” John was beginning to wither under Rodney’s suspiciously intense gaze. “Well, I’ll see you later, McKay.”

John began to walk past, only to have Rodney grab at his arm to stop him. John looked down at his arm, then back up at Rodney.

“John, what you did was…it was brilliant. But it was also incredibly stupid. They almost didn’t bring you back.”

John swallowed the lump that was growing in his throat. “Yeah, well, they did bring me back. I’m standing right here, aren’t I?” He tried to walk away again, but Rodney’s hand still gripped his arm to stop him from leaving.

“I guess now is my chance then.”

Rodney tugged John toward him, and before John could process what was about to occur, Rodney’s lips were on his. Soft, warm lips. It was the last thing that passed through John’s mind before his knees buckled and the world went dark.

John opened his eyes, only to have his entire field of vision consumed by a slightly blurry Dr. Rodney McKay.

“I - what -” John sat up, the world slowly coming back into focus.

“I have that effect on people.” Rodney helped him to his feet, steadied John, but then quickly put his hands to his sides.

John looked around. No one else in the hall. No one else had seen.

“Did you just -”

Rodney nodded. “Yes.”

John’s eyes grew wide. “And I just -”

Rodney nodded again. “Yes, you did. You sure you don’t want to go back to the infirmary?”

John shook his head slowly.

“No, I think…I think I just want to go to my room and lie down.”

Rodney’s face closed down then, his lips forming a thin line. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.” He turned away and took a step.

That’s when stupid, idiot John Sheppard grabbed Rodney’s hand.

“Rodney.”

Rodney looked back at him, his face flushed with embarrassment, though he would be the last to admit that.

“It’s…okay.”

Before Rodney could get the last word in, before he could smile that damn arrogant smile, John let go of his hand and turned to walk in the direction of his quarters. After what felt like an eternity, he reached his room and collapsed onto his bed.

Rodney McKay had kissed him.

Despite himself, John fell asleep with a smile on his face.

 

**_3\. When you’re closing your eyes_ **

John careened around the corner, searching for Rodney. He had a brilliant plan for the next offworld mission, going to see an Ancient lagrange satellite. Since it was a science exploration mission and the planet was listed in the Ancient database as uninhabited, an entire team of Marines wasn’t necessary. A science exploration mission meant at least Rodney going offworld, and if they needed a jumper, well - John could teach Rodney how to fly a jumper. Rodney had the Gene, and the more trained pilots the Expedition had, the better.

John loved flying. As much as Rodney liked to call him an _airheaded flyboy_ and a _jet jockey,_ he seemed to respect that John enjoyed flying. John had never intended to be a flight instructor, but maybe if he could teach Rodney something he loved -

He turned another corner, and there was Rodney. Sitting with his back against the wall, just outside his own quarters, eyes squeezed shut, breathing hard.

John was at his side in an instant. Was it anaphylaxis? Had someone put lemon-scented cleanser in the ventilation system?

“Rodney?”

Rodney was clutching the wound on his arm, John realized. Blood was soaking through the bandage.

“Dammit. You need me to take you to Beckett?”

Rodney shook his head, eyes still squeezed tightly shut. “I’m fine. Just - I accidentally banged it on the doorframe and it hurt and for a second I was -” He shook his head again.

Back in Kolya’s captivity.

Double dammit. By Elizabeth’s report, Rodney had been brilliant, lying to keep himself and Elizabeth alive. He’d been brave, stepping between Sora and Elizabeth when Sora had a gun pulled on her. John knew Rodney had been brilliant when he’d had the presence of mind to hit the intercom and let John know the Genii’s demands. John knew Kolya had hurt Rodney to make him talk, but -

What hurt John was torture to Rodney. John had been through SERE training and basic training before that. Rodney was a scientist, not an airman or a Marine. He wasn’t supposed to be put in the line of fire, at risk of being tortured.

“C’mon,” John said. “Let’s go get you patched up. I have a first aid kit in my quarters.” He helped Rodney to his feet.

Rodney allowed John to guide him down the hall to a transporter, over to the military residential atrium, and to John’s own quarters. He was surprisingly docile when John urged him over to sit on his narrow bed, and he was quiet when John went to rummage through his gear for his first aid kit.

He wasn’t a field medic by any stretch of the imagination, but when the PJs had rambled on about field medicine, well, John had listened.

“Take your jacket off?” John knelt beside Rodney once more.

Rodney nodded, unzipped his jacket, shrugged off one sleeve, winced when he tugged the sleeve down over his injury.

John set it aside - they’d get any bloodstains out later - and set his first aid kit on the bed beside Rodney. Rodney’s gaze was distant, his face pale.

“Okay, I’m just gonna look at the injury. That all right with you?”

_Keep your voice soothing. Let them know what’s happening. It’s their body. No surprises._

Mitch had been a damn fine medic, been a paramedic before he decided he wanted to fly instead.

Rodney nodded, but he didn’t let go of his arm.

John reached out, placed his hand gently on Rodney’s, careful not to press down, and let Rodney get acclimated to his touch. Then he tugged a little, and Rodney let John tug his hand free.

Beckett had stitched the gash, but some of the stitches had torn, and there was blood.

“This will sting a little.” John tore open a little alcohol wipe packet, cleaned up the blood.

Rodney hissed sharply but said nothing. Usually he was free with broadcasting his pain and discomfort to the world. John glanced up at him. His gaze was still distant.

Once the blood was cleaned away, John used a pair of little medical scissors to cut a bandage into little strips. He gave each strip one twist before using them to hold Rodney’s wound closed, makeshift butterfly bandages.

Training was important not so John could think clearly in an emergency but so he didn’t have to think, so he could fall back on his training to make it through. Rodney hadn’t had any of that, but he was a genius, could think circles around everyone on Atlantis, had thought circles around Kolya.

But once the emergency was done -

“There.” John wrapped the entire wound carefully, to keep it clean without putting unnecessary pressure on it. “All done. How are you feeling?”

Rodney curled his hand over his other arm, just above the fresh bandage. “I’m alive. That’s what counts.”

“Yeah,” John said softly. He could recall that moment when he’d stood on the balcony at the grounding station in the lashing rain, hearing Kolya threaten Rodney’s life after he’d (allegedly) already taken Weir’s. “You being alive counts for a lot.”

Rodney closed his eyes again. “How much does it count for?”

John blinked. “What?”

“You said it counts for a lot. _How much?”_

The intensity in Rodney’s voice made John shiver. “Well -”

Rodney opened his eyes, gazed into John’s, leaned in, and kissed him.

This time John didn’t faint. And he didn’t walk away. He closed his eyes and surrendered.

Rodney kissed the same way he approached every other puzzle in his life, aggressively and thoroughly. John parted his lips and Rodney delved in to taste him. Heat flooded John’s veins as Rodney gripped his shoulders tightly. They kissed till they ran out of breath, then parted, gazed into each other’s eyes.

“I want you,” Rodney said. Then he squeezed his eyes shut, looking pained.

John glanced at Rodney’s arm. Had he jostled Rodney’s wound? “Maybe we shouldn’t -”

“I _want_ you,” Rodney said. “And I - I need you. To remind me that I’m _here,_ with you, not -”

John nodded. “Yeah. All right.” Because he wanted Rodney, had wanted him for a long time, because he was beautiful, and he needed to know Rodney was there, was safe. The safest place for Rodney was in John’s arms.

He swept all of the first aid supplies into the box, shoved it shut, set it aside. Then he began unlacing Rodney’s boots.

“John,” Rodney breathed, clutching at John’s shoulder.

John turned his head, mouthed along the fabric on the inside of Rodney’s thigh, and Rodney’s breath hitched.

“Let me,” John said. He stripped off Rodney’s boots and socks, set them aside. Then he tugged meaningfully on the hem of Rodney’s shirt, gaze questioning.

Rodney nodded, raised his arms so John could peel his shirt over his head, mindful of the wound on his right forearm. When John reached for the button on Rodney’s pants, Rodney covered John’s hands with his, stilling him.

“You too,” Rodney said, plucking at John’s sleeve, and John nodded, moved to sit beside him on the narrow bed.

He took off his own boots and socks, but he let Rodney unzip his jacket, push it off his shoulders and down his arms. Rodney’s touch was slow, lingering, making the heat in John’s veins build. Rodney leaned in for another kiss as he worked his hands under John’s shirt, rucking up the fabric as he smoothed a hand over John’s belly, up his chest, stroked through the hair there.

Rodney brushed his thumb over a nipple, and John groaned. He lowered his head to Rodney’s throat, tasted the skin there, nibbled his way down to Rodney’s collarbone. They had to break apart long enough to tug John’s shirt over his head, and then Rodney pinned John to the mattress, climbed on top of him.

John parted his legs, let Rodney settle between his thighs. It had been so long since he’d done this. He’d wanted to do it with more than one of the beautiful men he worked with.

Rodney was the only one worth the risk.

Rodney was licking his way into John’s mouth again, rolling his hips against John’s.

John’s pulse thundered, but he just curled his fingers around the nape of Rodney’s neck and held him close, rocking up to meet every thrust.

“Slow down,” Rodney panted. “Not a teenager anymore. Gotta - gotta make this last.” And then he was nipping at John’s earlobe even as he fumbled his hands between them, unfastening John’s pants, then his own. “Do you have any lube or something?”

John fumbled in the nightstand for a bottle of the good stuff he’d brought from Earth. He flipped up the cap with his thumb and went to hand the bottle to Rodney when Rodney slid his hand into John’s boxers, curled his hand around John’s cock, and stroked.

John groaned and swore, his breath hitching from the shocks of pleasure dancing along his nerves. Rodney grabbed the bottle from him, fumbled between them some more, and then -

“Oh, _fuck.”_

Rodney slicked John’s cock with a single, sure stroke, and then he had both of them in hand, John’s hot length pressed against Rodney’s, and was stroking them together.

Rodney was beautiful, face flushed, lips parted, blue eyes bright with fevered intensity as he focused on the task at hand. Rodney’s hand was warm, strong, and he twisted his wrist just so, flicking his thumb against the head of John’s cock at the top of each stroke, and -

John had to close his eyes, turn his face away, so Rodney didn’t dare see -

Didn’t dare see how much John wanted him, needed him, _loved_ him -

Rodney was stroking them long and slow and perfect, but then his breath came faster, and his strokes sped up, and they were both rocking together, mouths meeting over and over again. John, eyes still closed, fumbled blindly for Rodney, curled his hands around Rodney’s shoulders and hung on.

John couldn’t speak, didn’t dare try. He buried his face against Rodney’s throat and held on tight and orgasm hit him like a freight train, lightning sparking in every part of his body, so fast and so hard he couldn’t make a sound. Rodney cried out, and John felt hot-slick come spread between them a second later, and then Rodney was kissing him again, breathless and sobbing.

Once John could breathe, dared to open his eyes, he reached over to the nightstand for some tissues so they could clean up.

Rodney was dozing already, murmured sleepily as John wiped him down.

John wrangled the covers up over them before they could get cold, damp with sweat as they were, and then he lay there, watching Rodney fall asleep.

He wasn’t really allowed to have this, Rodney in his arms, in his bed.

Once Rodney was fully asleep, John eased out of the bed, pulled his clothes back on. He left Rodney a note, _Duty calls,_ and then slipped out of his own quarters.

Rodney would understand. He was a genius.

When John returned to his quarters at the end of a long and taxing day, he collapsed on his bed with a groan.

The sheets smelled like Rodney and stale sex.

He opened his eyes, sat up, and realized his bed had been made. Of course it had been; he’d seen Rodney out and about in the city. He cast about and saw, on the nightstand, another note. No, the same note he’d left Rodney, only with Rodney’s reply.

_Thank you._

 

**_4\. When there’s no storm, then how can I feel the calm_ **

John leaned on the rail of the exterior balcony - the same balcony overlooking the city that he had shared the night before with Chaya. Now he was alone with no picnic, no wine, and no longsuffering Ancient to keep him company.

He had left Chaya to her punishment, come back in the jumper unscathed and with a more detailed explanation of what Chaya was. Rodney had managed not to give him a smug _I told you so_ speech. Instead, he had just looked on solemnly as John reported what had transpired to the rest of team.

John dragged his hands over his face. Why had he let his guard down so quickly and easily with Chaya? Had she been tricking him? John didn’t want to believe that, but Chaya _had_ expressed that she came to Atlantis to be with John more than anything else.

It had been nice, a momentary flight of fancy. But there was more to the situation than a few kisses with an alien priestess and whatever she had shared with him planetside, strange and glowy as it was.

The weightier part of the situation was Rodney’s face when he caught John sneaking back inside. The hurt in his eyes.

_A word of caution - the whole Captain Kirk routine is problematic, to say the least, let alone morally dubious._

_The romancing the alien priestess. It’s very 1967 of you. Actually, I’m surprised._

John had turned to anger because it had been the easiest emotion to contend with in that moment, but Rodney hadn’t backed down despite John’s increased intensity. Rodney didn’t understand that being with Chaya was easier and less complicated to deal with than the feelings he stirred inside of John. There were no questions asked in the Chaya scenario, even though Teyla had definitely given John a _look_ before he’d run off with his picnic basket the night before.

The whole thing was a mess.

John heard the door to the balcony slide open. He already knew who it was.

“McKay.”

“Major.”

Rodney approached. He stood a couple of feet away from John, gripping the rail, emanating pure tension. They stood in silence for a few beats. John could see that Rodney was working up the nerve to tell him something.

“I told you so.”

John laughed, but there was no joy in it. “There it is, I knew it. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Rodney turned toward John. “I told you there was something off about Chaya.”

“Yes, I believe we’ve already had this conversation McKay. Remember? I told you everything she told me.”

Rodney huffed. “Regardless, you welcomed her with open arms and with zero consideration given to anything I had to say.”

John rolled his eyes. “Is that all you want? For me to tell you that you were right? Well, you were right. Congratulations.” He pushed himself away from the railing and walked further down the balcony away from Rodney.

“So.” Rodney’s voice was meek and small now. When John turned back toward him, he could see Rodney had crossed his arms in front of his chest and was looking out over the water.

“So?”

Rodney glanced at John, but only for a moment before looking back out toward the city.

“Did you two…you know…”

John could see Rodney blushing from where he stood. “Not that it’s _any_ of your business at all, but no, we didn’t.”

“Not any of my business?” Rodney began, raising his voice.

John stood his ground, ready for whatever storm was about to come. He knew the few intimate moments he’d shared with Rodney were all he was going to get, especially after all this. John hadn’t deserved a second of it. Chaya had been living, breathing proof of that.

Rodney closed the gap between them, his hands shaking in rage. “John, you’re not Captain Kirk! That isn’t how this operation works! It isn’t seduce or be seduced, this is actual important work that we’re doing out here.”

“You act like all I’ve done from the moment I got here is hit on everything that moves. If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been a little busy trying to keep everybody here alive, yourself included! I made one mistake. I let someone in when I shouldn’t have. It won’t happen again, okay?” The words came tumbling out of John, and he wasn’t sure who he was talking about anymore - Chaya or Rodney.

“It wasn’t the first time.” Rodney’s voice was quiet again.

“What, are you talking about Teyla? That wasn’t even a thing, not for a second -”

“I’m talking about me, you idiot.”

John paused. The one thing he didn’t want to talk about _more_ than Chaya was how things stood between himself and Rodney and whatever it was they had. It seemed like it was now or never.

“What about you, Rodney?”

Rodney shrugged wildly. “I mean this. What’s happened. Us.” His voice cracked.

“Us?” John let the word hang in the air. It felt so nice to say, but it was just a word, a concept that couldn’t be entertained.

“Don’t pretend,” Rodney’s voice was trembling now, “don’t pretend like there isn’t an _us_. I’ve given you plenty of opportunities to push back, and you haven’t. That has to mean something.”

John didn’t answer, but he couldn’t look away from Rodney either.

“Well, doesn’t it?” Rodney’s voice cracked again, emotion starting to get the better of him.

John sighed. “Look. I let myself get compromised by Chaya. I’ll admit that. But it’s because I can’t let myself get compromised by...”

_By you._

He couldn’t say it. Rodney’s expression was unreadable.

“Get compromised by what, John?”

John took Rodney’s face in his hands and kissed him. He tried to pour all of himself into the kiss, wondering if Rodney could feel the pain and regret of losing Holland, the way John’s heart fluttered whenever Rodney smiled at him, the burden that rested on John’s shoulders to keep all of Atlantis safe and alive.

He broke the kiss, rested his forehead against Rodney’s and kept his eyes closed. John felt Rodney’s hands curl around his wrists, but Rodney didn’t move away or try to speak. He didn’t need to.

John opened his eyes to find Rodney staring at him intently. John slid one hand through Rodney’s hair and then lowered his hands to his sides.

“I’m sorry Rodney,” John whispered.

He walked toward the door, leaving Rodney alone on the balcony.

 

**_5\. Then don’t push me away_ **

John was sitting on the edge of his too-short bed, his head in his hands, trying to remember what he’d learned in Air Force Command and Staff. What his responsibility was for the men and women he commanded. What his responsibility was to the battlefield at large. He was a field-grade officer now. He was accountable for every life he saved, and every life he lost.

Two of his men, gone. In the blink of an eye. Not just the loss of the men, but the jumper. And the threat to Atlantis.

While he and his team had been playing Indiana Jones on an alien planet and getting jack shit as a result, he’d lost two men and a jumper and the Wraith were coming for them.

He lifted his head sharply when the door to his quarters hissed open. If it was Elizabeth - she’d dressed him down for going _off radio_ when they’d had their radios stolen by Kolya -

Worse, it was Rodney.

“Hey, John?”

The sound of his name on Rodney’s lips was almost his undoing.

John pressed his palms to his knees, refusing to let his hands curl into fists. He couldn’t do this, not right now, couldn’t listen to Rodney complain about things going wrong with the beautiful and intelligent Allina, how they’d lost the ZPM to stupid superstition and ignorance.

He sucked in a deep breath, but then Rodney said, “Hey, are you okay?”

John knew that Rodney was still upset over losing Gall and Abrams, but Rodney wasn’t a trained military officer, had started to accept that about himself.

“Fine. Just - two of my men are dead, the Wraith are headed for us, and we’re basically defenseless.”

The corner of Rodney’s mouth turned down. “When you put it like that -”

“I’m the ranking military officer on this expedition,” John said. “It’s my job to make sure we’re safe.” _And I can’t._

He hadn’t even been able to keep Rodney safe. Rodney had flung himself back into Kolya’s clutches with nary a blink, the man who’d tortured him, and John had been powerless to stop him, trapped in a dirt dungeon with barely a plan to hand. If not for Teyla and Ford being so combat-brilliant -

But Rodney was here, and he was sitting down beside John, close enough that John could feel his warmth but not touching.

“You’re not like other officers, though,” Rodney said. “Sumner was a hamfisted idiot.”

_Sumner was better equipped to handle what they had coming. A full-bird. Experienced. Able to make the hard decisions. Like asking me to kill him._

John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Well, just tell me how you really felt about the guy.”

Rodney rolled his eyes. “I’m saying don’t sell yourself short. I mean - did you see us back there? We were amazing. We were an awesome team. I should’ve known you’re smarter than you seem.”

“Than I seem?” John echoed, but he was only mildly offended.

“That time you just _knew_ how many permutations of a six-symbol address exist - that isn’t the type of thing most flyboys know.”

“I get that most of us _flyboys_ aren’t _Doctor Samantha Carter,”_ John said, “but we’re not stupid. We’re not Marines.”

“I’m telling Ford you said that.”

John shrugged. “Ford’s already heard all the jokes.”

And then Rodney nudged John’s shoulder with his, and that brief buzz of contact was more thrilling and intimate than anything they’d shared so far. “I was just _saying_ that you and I made a good team. Well, really, the team was you. You’re the one who solved the puzzle. I’d have gotten myself killed or, worse, someone else. But you. You were almost in MENSA.”

“Almost,” John said softly. He’d almost been a decent husband, almost rescued Holland, almost gotten Atlantis a ZPM, almost almost almost.

Rodney cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say I am impressed by your intelligence, which - believe you me - is no mean feat.”

“Thanks, Rodney.” John tried for his usual sardonic tone, but it didn’t quite come out right.

“And,” Rodney continued pointedly, “I just wanted to say - back there, while you were solving the puzzle, I was all _I got nothing_ and you were all _Thanks for the pep talk_ and I was all _I’m sorry -”_

“I was there, you know.”

“What I should have said - what I meant to say was -” Rodney faltered.

John turned to him, frowning. “What?”

Rodney turned to him, searched his gaze. John was pinned in place by what he saw in Rodney’s blue eyes, need and want and something else John didn’t dare name. Rodney reached out, curved his hand along John’s jaw in a slow, gentle caress. Rodney’s breath started to come faster, and he brushed his thumb across John’s lips. John leaned in to Rodney’s touch, turned his head and pressed a kiss to Rodney’s wrist.

He knew what Rodney wanted to say, and he couldn’t let Rodney say it, didn’t dare let him make it real.

But John wanted to say it too. He knew he shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He could give Rodney this, give Rodney himself. So he drew Rodney into his arms, kissed him soft and sweet and slow. Rodney moaned into John’s mouth, clutching at his arm and t-shirt, hanging on for dear life, but John just smoothed a hand up and down his back, gentling him. They had the entire rest of the night stretching out ahead of them. If they were going to do this, they were going to do it right. They were going to take their time.

John dimmed the lights in his quarters with half a thought, because Rodney in candlelight was beautiful, had been beautiful in the archives on Dagan. John had no candles here, but he had Rodney all to himself, and he was going to savor every minute of it.

Rodney’s lips were soft and warm, slightly chapped. John nuzzled in close, trying to learn every curve and line. When he nibbled on Rodney’s bottom lip, Rodney whimpered, and John smiled into the kiss, pleased. He wanted to hear that sound again.

He traced the line of Rodney’s jaw to his ear, sucked a kiss-bruise into the soft skin behind Rodney’s jaw while Rodney panted and squirmed in his arms.

When John straightened up, kissed Rodney’s mouth again, Rodney let his hands drift down John’s ribs to settle at his waist. He tugged at John’s shirt, and John shifted, let him untuck it, let him dip his fingers beneath the warm fabric to the skin beneath. John kept one hand curled at the base of Rodney’s skull, stroking the soft skin at the nape of his neck, the other at his hip, holding him close, but he let Rodney’s hands roam - up and down his back, tracing the lines of his shoulder blades and spine, along his ribs, over his belly, up his chest.

There was a moment when Rodney’s fingers tangled in the chain of John’s dog tags, and for one brief moment John thought of the oath he’d sworn, the regs he’d promised to follow, and then he remembered he was in another galaxy, far, far away from the United States and its Air Force, and he was walking the thin line between annihilation and survival, and he had Rodney McKay in his arms. He pulled back just far enough to peel off his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

Then he sat still and let Rodney look at him.

John wasn’t naive, knew he was good-looking, but the way Rodney was looking at him was beyond simple attraction. Rodney didn’t look at John and see years of military PT built into his skin and muscles and bones, didn’t see the filthy-hot potential of John’s pilot hands. He looked at John and saw - too much. Saw _John._ And he was still here.

He shouldn’t be. John would fail him like he’d failed everyone else -

But then Rodney smiled and peeled off his own shirt, and he held still so John could look, and -

John leaned in, pressed a kiss to Rodney’s collarbone.

Rodney’s breath hitched, but then John was stroking and exploring, learning and cataloguing, memorizing his soft, warm skin. John pressed forward, and Rodney surrendered, lay back on John’s bed. John crawled on top of him, dropping kisses on his skin - belly, ribs, sternum, collarbone, shoulder - as he went.

He had to pause for a moment and enjoy this, Rodney spread beneath him on his bed, and then he leaned in, captured Rodney’s mouth with his as he worked open Rodney’s trousers with one hand.

Rodney shifted his hips up, and John felt the hot, hard length of his arousal, but he wasn’t going there, not yet. John slid back down Rodney’s body, nibbling and kissing and licking till he reached the waistband of Rodney’s boxers, and then he stayed there, brushing his lips over the soft skin in the hollow of Rodney’s hip over and over again while Rodney panted and writhed.

When John tugged on Rodney’s trousers, Rodney canted his hips upward so John could slide them down his thighs, which he did, as slowly as he could make himself, pressing more kisses to each inch of flesh as it was revealed.

Rodney’s thighs were trembling, and he let out another whimper when John stroked the soft skin at the back of his knees.

John made short work of Rodney’s boots and socks, set them on the floor. He finished undressing himself, and then he knelt at the foot of the bed, pressing delicate kisses to the arch of Rodney’s foot and his ankle. Rodney gasped and panted, and then John made his way back up Rodney’s body, tracing each curve with his fingertips and following with his lips, until he was lying on top of Rodney once more, skin to skin.

Rodney parted his thighs, and John settled against him, careful not to leave too much of his weight on him, but then Rodney reeled him in for a kiss and they lay there, kissing and kissing, hips rocking, delicious friction building between them. John’s heart was racing, but he kept his movements slow and careful, because he didn’t want to startle Rodney, and he didn’t want to miss a thing. If he was only going to get to do this once, he was going to make sure he remembered it.

Rodney was hard and leaking, their bellies slick with sweat and precome, and John forced himself to pull back a bit.

Rodney whined at the loss of contact, but then John reached into the nightstand and found the bottle of lube, held it up for Rodney to see.

Rodney’s gaze lit, and he nodded frantically, but John leaned in for another kiss to slow him, distract him so he wouldn’t notice when John popped the cap on the bottle, slicked his own fingers, and started to open himself up, one finger at a time.

John angled himself atop Rodney so they were kissing, chests pressed together, but they weren’t touching anywhere else. Rodney was rocking his hips, searching for more delicious skin contact, but John wouldn’t let him have it.

“Please,” Rodney begged, pressing his mouth to John’s over and over again. “Please touch me.”

“Not yet,” John murmured. “Just wait.” His breath was ragged, he was so turned on, but he had to hold on.

Rodney’s hands on John were fever-hot, fingers dancing over his skin, frantic, caressing, searching. _“John._ I want you. I _need_ you. Please. Please please please -”

John straightened up, and Rodney mewled at the loss of contact, but then John was grasping Rodney’s cock and slicking him up. Rodney bucked into his hand, seeking completion, but then John gripped him tighter, stilling him. He shifted his hips and bore down, and -

That first breach was still thicker and blunter than John’s fingers, and he had to pause, adjust to the burn. It had been so long, but the look on Rodney’s face, awed and blissed out, was worth it. John inhaled, and on the exhale he sank all the way down. Rodney groaned deeply, and then they were pressed close once more, skin to skin, the closest any two people could be.

Rodney moved first. Pleasure rocketed through John’s limbs when Rodney’s cock nudged his sweet spot, and he met Rodney thrust for thrust, slow and careful at first.

John closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and reveled in the sensation of Rodney filling him, completing him.

And then Rodney’s hand closed around his cock and stroked, and John’s eyes flew open.

Rodney tugged him in for a kiss, still working his hand between them. John closed his eyes and lost himself in the dizzying sensation of Rodney’s mouth and hands and cock. Rodney began to thrust harder, faster, his hips moving in counterpoint to the hand on John’s cock. The slow burn that had started with that first kiss had risen to flames licking beneath John’s skin. Now it was punctuated by little flashes of lightning with each thrust, each stroke, and John couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, could only move and kiss and touch as the lightning built and built and built -

John came with a soft cry, shuddering in Rodney’s arms as warm stickiness spread between them.

Rodney tumbled after him moments later, his cry louder and piercing, his arms tight around John, clinging to him as they both trembled through the aftershocks.

When they could both finally breathe again, they disengaged carefully. Rodney found tissues to clean them up, and John found the bottle of lube, made sure it was capped, set it aside.

“John,” Rodney breathed, eyes wide.

John shook his head, silenced Rodney with a kiss, and drew the covers up over them. He flung his arm around Rodney’s waist, buried his face against Rodney’s shoulder, and shamelessly tangled their legs together. He lay beside Rodney, listening to his breathing slow, and waited till he fell asleep.

While John was trying to decide whether he should stay or go - even though once again it was his bed and his quarters - he, too, fell asleep.

When he woke, Rodney was already awake, sitting up and staring at him. He had John’s copy of War and Peace open on his lap, but he wasn’t reading it.

“Don’t lose my bookmark,” John said, voice rough with sleep.

Rodney closed the book and set it aside.

“John.”

“Rodney.” He pushed himself up so he was sitting beside Rodney, not quite touching him, which was a feat on these narrow beds.

“Look, John,” Rodney said, “there are at least three Wraith hive ships coming. We don’t have a ZPM. We’re probably going to die. We nearly died back on Dagan, and I didn’t say it then, but then there was a chance we were going to live, which is really a good thing, I was more optimistic about your skills, but the situation we’re in now, it’s not so much about just your math skills as much as it is about everyone’s survival skills, and not everyone is you -”

“Rodney,” John said, “get to the point?”

“The point is we’re going to die and you keep pushing me away and it’s pointless for me to keep denying it even though I know you’re terribly emotionally repressed, so I’m just going to say it: I love you.” Rodney lifted his chin, gaze defiant, daring John to contradict him or tell him otherwise.

_I love you._

Three words that were more dangerous a weapon than any John could lay hands on. They could burrow under his skin and seep into his marrow and fracture his bones and flay open his heart and make it dance on broken strings.

He couldn’t say it back.

Rodney looked at him for a long moment. The fervor in his eyes dimmed to resignation, and he looked away. “I’m not taking it back.”

John didn’t want him to, but he couldn’t say it himself. If he even thought the words his entire body seized up -

The radio on John’s nightstand crackled.

Chuck said, “Major Sheppard, report to Control ASAP.”

John scooped up his radio. “Roger that.” He looked at Rodney.

Rodney sighed and shook his head. “Go. Duty calls.”

 

 **(6.)** **_I’m going nowhere_ **

John put one foot in front of the other, not knowing where he was going, not knowing where he wanted to end up. In that moment, wandering aimlessly in the maze that was the city of Atlantis seemed better to John than sitting alone in the dark.

The data burst had been sent. If it reached Earth, if it could be decrypted by the SGC - these were all unknown variables in the upcoming fight against the Wraith. At the very least, they had _tried_ to send all the information they could about the planets they’d seen, the people they’d met, and all the intel gathered on the Wraith threat. Even after all of that, Rodney had compressed the information so much that there had been space for any member of the expedition to send videos of what could be their final goodbye to their loved ones on Earth.

John hadn’t sent a thing - minus his report on Colonel Sumner’s passing. There was no one on Earth for him to say goodbye to. John tried to bury the ache of that knowledge deep down, but the longer he wandered, the harder it was to ignore the truth.

He didn’t have anyone on Earth. But there was someone on Atlantis: a blue-eyed scientist who knew all there was to know about so many things, including John himself. Someone who in many ways was infinitely braver than John ever could be - at least in matters of the heart.

John stopped, turned, and looked up. This whole time, he had been walking an endless path that ended at Dr. Rodney McKay’s quarters. Every step John took led him back to Rodney, even after all the times he’d tried to run away.

The Wraith were a week and a half out at best. There was no plan. Without reinforcements, without some kind of miracle, the expedition would die trying to defend Atlantis.

John put his hand on the door to Rodney’s quarters. He tapped lightly.

“Rodney?”

No answer.

John couldn’t let this go. Not now. His heart pumped wildy in his chest, and he knocked on the door a little louder.

“Rodney, I want to talk.”

Nothing.

“Major?” A voice came from behind John, and it wasn’t Rodney’s.

It was Miko, one of the scientists who worked with Rodney. John ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to make himself look as casual as possible and not like he was having an internal crisis about the fate of Atlantis.

“Oh, uh, hi Miko. Would you happen to know where Dr. McKay is?”

She nodded and smiled politely. “Yes, he’s in his lab. I don’t know how much sleep he’s gotten in the past few days...he’s been working on the data burst, among other things.”

John nodded, and he saw Miko’s brow furrow in worry. “Are you going to check on him?”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I need to talk to him about something…pretty important.”

Miko’s smile faded. “All right. Tell him to get some rest, would you?”

“I will, don’t you worry.”

She walked away, and without a second thought, John made his way to the lab.

It was John’s turn to be brave.

The door to the lab hissed open. John had jogged there, worried that he might lose his nerve if he didn’t hurry to find Rodney.

The lab was empty at first glance. John scanned the room again and his gaze landed on Rodney, his body slumped onto the table he’d been working at. John kept his footsteps as silent as possible and made his way across the lab to Rodney’s side.

Once there, once he saw Rodney breathing peacefully in sleep, John paused.

_The last time you loved someone, you lost them. You couldn’t rescue him. Holland died in your arms and he didn’t know that you loved him, that you risked everything to save him._

_It doesn’t have to end that way again._

“Rodney.” John gently touched Rodney’s shoulder, trying not to startle Rodney awake. Unfortunately, Rodney jumped in his seat anyway, gasping for air.

“Hey hey hey, you’re okay. It’s just me.” John kept his voice low and soothing.

Rodney rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.

“Major. What can I do for you?”

“I -” Suddenly anything that John had planned to say escaped him, and so the two of them stared at each other in silence. Finally, Rodney spoke.

“Did you come up with something ingenious to stop the Wraith? Because that would be just...fantastic right about now.”

John shook his head. “No. Not yet.”

Rodney sighed. “Well, that’s unfortunate.”

John moved behind Rodney and sat on the seat next to him. “The data burst seemed to go through.”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah. Who knows if it actually reached SGC though.”

“We can hope.”

Rodney chuckled, but it was devoid of any emotion. “Hope is about the only thing we have right now.”

John nodded and stared blankly ahead. He needed to say it. It had to be now, in the eye of the storm, or it would never happen. He took a deep breath.

“Did you send any messages back home?”

Rodney yawned. “I recorded an hour’s worth of footage. Talking to a camera was…strangely therapeutic. At the very least, I’m hoping Ford kept my message to my sister Jeannie. What about you?”

John looked at Rodney. “Not really, no. I sent a message to Sumner’s family. Elizabeth thought I would want to give that news myself.”

“Yeah.” Rodney met John’s gaze, and that same resigned looked from the the other morning was back, dulling his blue eyes and making his mouth turn down at the corners.

 _I’m not taking it back_.

“Why are you really here, John?”

John’s heart leapt into his throat - Rodney was still the braver one. Before his instinct to fly away took hold, John took another deep breath and began to speak.

“Rodney, I don’t have anyone on Earth to say goodbye to. Anybody that might have cared to hear from me either doesn’t care anymore or is long gone. Normally, the thought of being alone doesn’t really terrify me. But - but it terrifies me now.” John paused and swallowed the lump growing in his throat. Rodney said nothing, but the look in his eyes seemed to urge John to continue.

“There is a very real chance that Atlantis will be destroyed soon, and all of us along with it. I can’t face that fact without telling you - without letting you know -”

The words were caught in his throat. Brief images flashed through John’s mind - Holland’s face as he left the world, Rodney’s face the first time they had kissed, Rodney’s face when they touched, Rodney…

Rodney, in front of him now, holding his breath.

“I love you, Rodney. And I’m sorry for running away from it until now.”

And then Rodney was kissing him. John reached for Rodney’s face to feel it wet with streaks of tears, their mouths crashing together again and again. Finally Rodney pulled back, absent-mindedly trying to smooth John’s hair flat.

“I love you too, John. I love you I love you I love you -” Rodney whispered the words feverishly, a prayer to anyone or anything that might be listening.

John grinned. He did the only thing he could think to do in that moment, which was to pull Rodney close and kiss him again. When they broke apart again for air, John murmured against Rodney’s lips.

“Your place or mine?”

Later that night as they lay together in Rodney’s bed, spent and breathless, John took Rodney in his arms and held him close. He kissed Rodney’s sweaty brow gently and then looked into Rodney’s shimmering blue eyes.

“No more running,” John whispered, “we’ll face this together.”

Rodney nodded. “Together.”

John smiled, his eyes starting to drift close. “Love you, Rodney.”

“Love you, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title and section headers from the James Morrison song If You Don't Wanna Love Me.


End file.
